


Streams

by filenotch



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, not-voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 21:49:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: There is always music in Rodney's head, along with six other streams of thought.





	Streams

His brain is multitasking as usual. Along with the low background hum of music that plays in his memory even when he concentrates on a problem, his parallel tracks are now occupied with three things: the obvious pleasure-need-hunger of John's mouth on his, the concern over whether they've picked a very bad location, and the understanding that right now John doesn't care if they're seen. He's pressing Rodney back against a wall in a tall, narrow room full of Atlantis's infrastructure, opening their clothes just enough for John to get a hand in, John's mouth devouring Rodney's with a single-mindedness Rodney has come to know all too well.

Rodney replaces the background music in his head--complex harmonics on a piano that are a relief after the hours he had this morning with Wagnerian horns playing warning melodies in his head, sometimes joined by equally Wagnerian violins playing variations on "we're going to die"--with a hyperawareness of sound.

He's saved them from discovery several times by being the first to notice someone moving toward them. Once it happened just as he was coming, and on yet another track in his brain he laughs at the memory of the painful sensation of pulling himself out of John's mouth, tucking his still spurting dick into his pants, and walking casually toward the intruder (no, the Marine on legitimate business) to deflect him long enough for John to get off his knees and pull himself together.

At the moment he only hears wet noises of , deep-throated groans, and the constant hum of power and water. He hears no footsteps, no voices but their own. That's why he's surprised when he opens his eyes and sees Ronon on a catwalk above him, looking around like they're in the field and the Wraith may be coming. He can't see well, but it looks like Ronon's left hand is moving in a distinctive rhythm at a distinctive location, and Rodney closes his eyes before Ronon looks their way again. Rodney draws the conclusion that he can relax and let the audio track in his brain slip into the Rachmaninov that accompanies sex with John. 

They're safe.

He is up against the wall with his brain riding rails of pleasure, need, pride, gratitude, and music played with passion and technical precision.

They're home.

John's hand twists them together, and the combination of frictions from the soft steel of John's cock and the hard callouses on John's hands adds an orchestra behind the piano in his head.

They are alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Rescued from Wraithbait. Written 10 years ago. I'd forgotten about this one.


End file.
